Fiona Duff: I blame my bad memory for lack of invitations

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There was a time, many moons ago, when I must have been on every invitation list around. Rarely a week went by without invitations to the launch party of a new restaurant or bar. It was always nice to go along for a sneaky peek before the general public were let loose.

These days I am the general public. I’m not sure if these parties just don’t happen so frequently, but whatever the case I have dropped off the party list radar. I was invited to the launch of Mothers, a new bar on Howe Street, but unfortunately it arrived half an hour before the party started and I just wasn’t in the mood, what with already sitting on the sofa wearing my slippers. So I didn’t bother to go along.

However, like a bus, last night saw me being invited to three events – all book related which may reflect the fact that people obviously don’t want me to be seen in their hospitality establishments, but are happy for me to stick my nose in a book.

The first invitation came to celebrate the publication of Alice Greenway’s new book, The Bird Skinner. I really liked her first book, White Ghost Girls, so it was a no-brainer to go and say hello and buy a copy. The second invitation was to the launch of the Historical Fiction Festival at Summerhall, pictured. The programme looks rather good and it’s on all weekend so might be worth popping along – it’s worth seeing the inside of this amazing building if nothing else. In fact they make their gin and brew their own beer so that’s another two good reasons to shift your carcass.

Finally I was invited to hear about Patrick Richardson’s book, In Search of Landfall. I met him a couple of months ago at a party. “I think I know your name” I said. “You used to commission me to write travel features,” he replied. So that might be why I’m on so few lists – if I can’t remember anything what good would I be at spreading the word?